Don't Leave Me
by Usagibuffy
Summary: After returning home from his first year at Hogwarts, Harry finds that things at number 4 Privet Drive have gone from bad to worse. Warning: contains child abuse, non-graphic rape.


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Don't Leave Me

Written by Trina Zuchares, July 2002

Summary: After returning from his first year at Hogwarts, Harry finds that things at number four, Privet Drive, have gone from bad to worse.

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Rating: R; mentions of child abuse and rape

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Author's Note: This story takes place in a slightly alternate universe. As stated above, it begins at the end of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_, taking place between Harry's first and second years at Hogwarts. Sirius Black was freed from Azkaban two years prior. Why is Harry not living with him? It's explained in the story. You should know that this is my first successful (i.e. completed) fanfiction ever, and also the first one I haven't stuck my own characters into.

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Disclaimer: Of course, all the usual stuff applies: characters, HP universe, and most of the first page of this fic belong to J.K. Rowling. Though I love her stories very much, I sure wish she would hurry up and get the next one out!

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He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!" It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron. "Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see –"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point." Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them. "Busy year?"

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?" It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have – er – a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," said Harry, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…"

-Excerpted from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

Harry scowled as he thought back to his last words with his friends. Sure, he had figured there was no way the Dursley's would let him have access to his trunk over the summer, but he certainly hadn't expected Uncle Vernon to search the trunk. It didn't take long for Uncle Vernon to find and read the letter sent home with all students. The one prohibiting the use of magic over the holidays.

The summer had started out rather badly. Over the school year, the Dursley's had moved everything out of the second bedroom, leaving only the bed. Shutters had been placed over the window outside, restricting the amount of light that could enter the room. A small cat door had been put into the door; food was pushed through the flap one or two times a day. Harry was let out twice a day to use the restroom. Other than that, the room was Harry's prison.

It couldn't have been more than the second week of the summer holiday, though in Harry's mind it seemed far longer. He lay on his bare mattress, staring at the dark window. Aunt Petunia had decided he didn't even warrant sheets, much less a blanket, and the nights were cold at times.

A door downstairs slammed, causing Harry to start slightly. He listened as something, possibly a vase, smashed downstairs, then heavy footsteps came up the stairs. The footsteps stopped at Harry's door and Harry could hear the bolt on the door slide open. The door swung open to reveal Uncle Vernon, purple-faced, eyes blood-shot, and smelling heavily of alcohol. Harry sat up on the bed, watching his uncle warily. Uncle Vernon shut the door behind him before turning on Harry.

"You little brat," he breathed heavily, advancing on Harry. Harry scrambled back on the bed, afraid of the look in his uncle's eyes. Thinking back, Harry wasn't entirely certain what had happened next. All he knew was that his uncle left a little while later, leaving Harry crumpled on the floor. A mental tally of his injuries totaled three injured ribs, a black eye, and numerous cuts and bruises from the flurry of fists, blind kicks, and lashes with a leather belt.

Within a week, beatings like this had become routine. Harry was beaten several times a day, usually when Uncle Vernon was drunk. Apparently things were not going well at his business, and of course, he had decided Harry was to blame.

Harry stood at the window, wishing he could see outside. He cradled left arm carefully, trying not to jar his injured wrist. More then anything, he wished he could see his friends, his godfather, a teacher, anybody. He'd even be happy to see Professor Snape. When you hear a person say something long enough, you begin to believe it. Harry had been listening to everyone at home tell him he was bad, he deserved everything he got, and worse.

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Maybe they're right, Harry thought, leaving the window and walking back to his bed. _Maybe I do deserve all this. I do seem to cause trouble everywhere I go._

Then one night, things changed. Harry awoke with a start, finding a hand pressed firmly over his mouth. Uncle Vernon's face hovered six inches from his, the sour smell of beer on his breath causing Harry's eyes to water.

"You make a sound, and you won't walk for a month," his uncle threatened. "Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded fearfully. Uncle Vernon removed his hand from Harry's mouth and stood straight.

"It's all your fault, you know," Uncle Vernon said angrily. "It's because of you Petunia won't have me. You're a bad boy. Get up." Harry slowly crawled off of the bed and stood before his uncle, being careful to stay as quiet as possible.

"Now strip."

Harry's eyes bulged at this demand, but a smack across the face convinced him to hastily comply. He shivered slightly as he stood naked before his uncle, feeling trepidation as his uncle's eyes roamed his body. Bruises of every size shape and color dotted the small pale body, and he was so skinny, his ribs stuck out.

"You deserve this," Uncle Vernon said in a dangerous voice, grabbing Harry by the throat and pushing him onto the bed. "You're a bad boy." He pinned Harry on his back, then flipped him over and straddled the now terrified boy.

The pain was intense as he was violated by his uncle. Harry cried out, earning himself a slap across the side of his head, hard enough to make him see stars. He pushed his face into the mattress, trying to keep from making any more noise, but it wasn't enough to keep the tears from coming. They flowed freely down his cheeks, wetting the bare mattress beneath him.

After what seemed like an eternity, it was over. Uncle Vernon pushed himself off the small boy. Harry remained motionless. The sound of zipper could be heard, then footsteps to the door. He heard the door open, then shut. His abuser had left without a word or a second glance.

As soon as he heard the bolt slid into place, Harry pushed himself off the mattress and staggered across the floor. He had almost made it to the other wall when his knees buckled and he fell, landing on his hands and knees. Nausea and dizziness overtook him and he vomited, losing what little he had been given to eat that day.

His stomach felt a bit better afterwards, though no other part of him would submit to letting him feel better. Pushing himself back to his feet, he felt something trickle down his legs. It took his fuzzy brain a minute to realize blood was flowing down his legs from the most abused part of his body. The clothes he had been forced to remove were now gone, presumably taken by his uncle. Harry staggered back to the bed and collapsed on the bloodied mattress. Naked, cold, and alone, Harry cried himself to sleep.

Sirius Black paced the floor of his home. Two years ago, he had been thrilled when his innocence had finally been proven and he had been released from Azkaban. He had been less then thrilled when he had put in a plea with Albus Dumbledore to take custody of his godson, Harry Potter, and Dumbledore rejected it. According to Dumbledore, it was better to keep Harry in his relatives' home to "preserve what little stability he has." Sirius thought that was a crock.

Over the previous year, he had been allowed to visit Hogwarts, even going so far as being able to take Harry home with him to Hogsmeade for the holidays. Sirius and Harry became close, as Sirius was able to tell Harry about his parents and Harry gave Sirius's life meaning.

Now the summer was nearly halfway through, and Sirius was worried. There had been no reply to the weekly letters Sirius sent, and a feeling of unease and worry had been haunting Sirius for the past two weeks. _That's it,_ he thought. _Time to talk to Dumbledore._

"Do you really think there is something to be concerned about?" Dumbledore asked the almost frantic man sitting before him. They were in his office, with Sirius doing his best to convince Dumbledore that something was wrong with Harry.

"Yes, certainly," the younger man responded, trying to keep the tremble of fear out of his voice. "I think we should go and check up on him."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a minute. "Well, the charms and barriers around his house are still up…" Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Dumbledore didn't give him a chance. "But if you think we should go visit, let's go visit."

A short time later, Dumbledore and Sirius were standing in front of number four, Privet Drive. They both gazed at the house for a moment, Sirius idly wondering why only one window had shutters. Moving as one, they approached the front door and rang the doorbell.

A large man answered the door, eyeing the newcomers suspiciously. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly. Professor Dumbledore put on a pleasant smile.

"Hello," he said politely. "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School, and this is Sirius Black. We're here to see Harry."

The large man's eyes narrowed as his face turned red with anger. "I told that stupid boy he was not to have any of those freaks over!" he shouted. "He's not here, took off about a week ago." The door slammed shut.

"He's lying," Sirius said grimly.

"I agree," conceded Dumbledore. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door. "_Alohomora!_" The door swung open and the two wizards strode inside. Harry's uncle and aunt stood in the living room, staring in astonishment at the two men who had just entered their house uninvited.

"You wouldn't mind if we had a look around, would you?" Dumbledore asked mildly as Sirius started up the stairs.

Sirius reached the top of the stairs just as Harry's uncle began shouting at Dumbledore. He ignored the shouting and began making his way down the hall. It wasn't long before one door caught his attention: a sliding bolt kept anyone on the inside from coming out and a small pet door had been installed near the bottom. Looking more closely, he noticed splatters of red on the inside of the small plastic flap. Fearing the worst, Sirius approached the door and slid the bolt open.

The door creaked slightly as it swung open and the first thing to hit Sirius was the smell coming from inside the room. Stale vomit mixed with the metallic scent of blood and something else not as easily identifiable. There was no light in the room, save for a few beams that made their way through the shuttered window. Sirius found a lightswitch on the wall and flipped it, but nothing happened. Then a slight whimper caught his attention.

Sirius turned to see a body huddled in the corner of the dark room. The boy sat pressed into the corner, hugging his knees to his chest. The black hair covering his head was matted and dirty and the boy himself was naked. The most frightening thing however, was Harry's actions. Harry sat rocking, staring off into nothingness, lips moving but words unheard from the doorway. Sirius cautiously moved closer and knelt by Harry's side, trying to make out what he was saying.

"I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm bad…" Harry chanted, almost inaudibly. Sirius gazed into his godson's face, frightened by the haunted look staring out from two swollen black eyes. A dark purple bruise covered most of the left side of his jaw, and a long jagged cut marred the pale flesh of his right cheek. A quick glance over Harry's body revealed many more cuts and bruises and the pale skin of a child who hadn't seen sunlight in several weeks.

"Harry," Sirius called softly, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry cowered under the touch, trying to pull away, but his position by the wall prevented him from getting very far. Instead, he buried his face in his arms and whimpered, "Please, no…" Sirius blinked back tears as he gently stroked the boy's head.

"Harry, it's me, your godfather." This elicited no response. Sirius tried again. "Professor Dumbledore and I came to get you out of here." This time there was a mumbled response.

"Dream."

"No, Harry," Sirius tried to reassure him. "This isn't a dream. It's really me, Sirius." Haunted eyes were lifted to meet Sirius's tear-filled ones. Then a whisper, full of agony, hope, and fear.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah, kiddo, it's me."

Without warning, Harry flung himself at Sirius. The skinny body was wracked with sobs as Harry latched his arms around his godfather's neck in a death grip. Dumbledore appeared behind Sirius's shoulder, offering a blanket which was gratefully accepted and wrapped around the sobbing, shuddering boy. Sirius kept a tight grip on his godson, who had buried his face in the crook of his neck. A moment later, Sirius realized there was more.

"My goodness, Harry, you're burning up!" he exclaimed, surprising Harry. Harry cowered again, whimpering. Sirius immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he whispered. After a moment, Sirius slowly stood, lifting Harry in his arms like a small child. Harry stayed latched onto the first friendly person he had seen since leaving the train station a month and a half earlier.

Sirius turned to Dumbledore, anger flashing in his eyes. "We need to get out of here _now_," he said trying to keep his voice calm for Harry's sake. Dumbledore nodded grimly.

"To Hogwarts."

After "dealing" with the muggles downstairs, Dumbledore climbed the stairs, looking for Sirius and Harry. An open door caught his attention and he peered inside the dark room. He was astonished by the condition of the room. Blood stains and dried vomit decorated the mostly bare floor. A battered bed with a thin sheetless mattress stood in one corner; the mattress also bore bloodstains, a silent testament to what the child had endured. The boy himself was huddled in a corner, naked pale skin revealing the horrors he had been subjected to. Sirius was crouched by his side, talking quietly.

The Potter boy was in bad shape, Dumbledore could see. He watched as the boy tried to get away from Sirius's touch, but was stopped by the wall. Turning away from the scene, he decided to see if he could find something to cover the boy. It certainly wouldn't do for the child to remain in his unclothed state while they traveled to Hogwarts. It didn't take long for him to locate a blanket.

Stepping back into the room, he was pleased to see that Harry had latched onto his godfather; obviously Sirius had gotten through to him. He handed the blanket to Sirius, who gratefully accepted it and wrapped it around the boy. 

Sirius held the boy tightly for a minute, then exclaimed, "My goodness, Harry, you're burning up!" Dumbledore felt a deep guilt and sadness as he watched the boy, surprised by the exclamation, cower in the arms of the one man who loved him more than anyone else. Sirius hastily apologized and scooped the child into his arms. 

With a forced calmness, he told Dumbledore, "We need to get out of here _now_." The old wizard nodded his agreement. They needed to move Harry to a place where he would be safe and be able to recover.

"To Hogwarts."

It seemed in Sirius's mind like an eternity before they arrived at Hogwarts. The two men quickly made their way to hospital wing, Sirius still clutching Harry tightly. Harry had fallen into an exhausted, though restless, sleep, but still maintained his death grip around Sirius's neck.

"Poppy!" Dumbledore called rather loudly as they entered the hospital wing. The call woke Harry with a start. He immediately scrunched down in Sirius's arms and began whimpering. Sirius held him tighter and rocked him a bit, talking softly to him.

Madame Pomfrey appeared quickly. "Oh my," she gasped. "Is that the Potter boy?" Dumbledore nodded grimly. "Put him down on this bed," she instructed.

However, when Sirius moved to put Harry down, Harry just held on tighter and began screaming, "Nononononononononono!" Sirius sat on the bed, keeping hold of Harry, and began rocking him gently. 

"Shh, baby, it's ok."

There was a muffled sob, then, "Sirius…help me…" Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as Sirius looked up at Madame Pomfrey, his eyes pleading with her to find another way to examine him. 

Dumbledore stepped forward, wand extended. He gently tapped Harry's shoulder, saying, "_Dormio!_" Harry immediately stopped screaming and slumped against Sirius's shoulder. Carefully, Sirius loosened Harry's grip and lay him on the bed.

Madame Pomfrey shooed the two worried men away from the bedside, then pulled a curtain around the bed to give herself and the boy some privacy as she examined him. Dumbledore and Sirius turned to each other. Both men appeared to have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"I am curious to know," Dumbledore started wearily, "how it is that you knew Harry was in trouble." The younger man gazed out a window for a moment before replying.

"I didn't," Sirius admitted. "I just had a feeling. After not having heard from him all summer, and then about two weeks ago, this little voice in my head started nagging me, saying I should check on him." He sighed and closed his eyes as the grief and guilt overwhelmed him. "I wish I had checked on him sooner." The silver haired wizard put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"And I wish I hadn't insisted he go back there," Dumbledore said quietly. Both men stood lost on their own thoughts for several minutes before Madame Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain. Lines creased her face, making her look twenty years older.

"He's going to take some time to heal," she told them. "The poor child, he's been beaten rather severely a number of times. It looks like he has been hit with a belt as well as being hit and kicked. He's far skinnier then he ought to be; my guess is he hasn't had a proper meal since he left school. Malnutrition has left him weak and unable to heal quickly. Besides the cuts and bruises, he has a sprained wrist and several cracked ribs." The nurse paused and took a deep breath. "There's more. There's bruising and tearing around his anus." Sirius narrowed his eyes.

"What are you telling us?" he demanded. Madame Pomfrey sighed.

"He's been raped." She paused a moment to let the news sink in, then gave the rest of the bad news. "He's been raped numerous times, but not over a very long period of time. I'd say this abuse started two weeks ago, three at the most. The beatings and starvation, he's probably been enduring those since school let out, the poor dear." She cast a worried sympathetic eye on the sleeping boy.

Dumbledore stood unmoving, the twinkle gone from his eye. He now looked every bit as old as he was. A flurry of emotions ran across Sirius's face, from sorrow to confusion to rage and guilt.

"What about the fever?" Sirius asked, managing to push back everything but the worry.

"He's developed an infection, but it's nothing serious. When he wakes, he may be slightly delirious, but it should pass quickly."

"I want to stay with him." The tone of his voice left no room for argument; as he child's godfather, both Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey accepted that it was Sirius's right and duty to watch over his godson.

It had now been two days since the rescue, and still Harry slept. Sirius maintained a constant vigil by the bed, even going so far as to take all his meals right there in the hospital wing. Dumbledore was a frequent visitor; Sirius had determined that he was working on something to keep Harry out of that house and so left him alone.

A hand on his shoulder startled Sirius from his thoughts. It was Dumbledore, looking rather stern. He gestured towards the door and Sirius followed him into the hall.

"Don't even consider it," Dumbledore warned. Sirius was quite confused.

"Consider what, sir?"

"Whatever it is you are considering doing to the muggles who hurt Harry. If you even want to be considered as Harry's guardian, don't do anything."

Sirius sighed. "I understand. But you don't get it…I mean, everyone else looks at Harry, and they see the famous Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived." He wiped a tear from his eye. "I look at him and I see Harry Potter, the son of two of my best friends, the friends I let down. The child I swore to raise and care for if anything ever happened to them…"

Dumbledore gave the younger man a minute to collect himself, then told him, "I understand. Just don't do anything foolish." Sirius nodded as Dumbledore turned and walked quickly down the corridor.

When he returned to Harry's bedside, the bed was empty. After a quick frantic search, Sirius located Harry, who was curled up under a small table on the far side of the room. He was in much the same position as when Sirius had found him at the Dursley's house: knees drawn up to his chest, feet pushing him in an agitated rocking motion. His forehead rested on his knees, and his arms were clasped protectively around his head. As he drew nearer, Sirius could hear Harry whispering, "I'm bad, I'm bad, I'm bad," over and over again. His heart broke to see the boy he loved in such a state.

Sirius reached and placed a hand on Harry's arm. The touch caused Harry to stiffen and look up as he pulled away, at the same time pleading, "Don't touch me, I'll be good, I promise, just don't touch me…" He pulled his hand away, hurt by his godson's rejection.

"All right, Harry, if that's what you want." Harry looked up at the man now moving away from him.

"Sirius?" The name was whispered, full of emotion. Sirius turned back to face the small boy under the table who was now looking at him, terror on his face. He was back at his godson's side in an instant, ready to comfort the trembling lip and tear-filled green eyes. Without warning, Harry scrambled into Sirius's arms, his own bruised arms encircling the man's neck again. He lay his head on Sirius's shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

Sirius took a minute to just hold Harry, before standing carefully. When Madame Pomfrey came in a short while later, she found Sirius pacing the floor with Harry like a father trying to comfort a distraught toddler. Catching her eye, he smiled slightly, then looked down at Harry. She followed his gaze to see Harry had fallen asleep again.

"How is he?" she whispered, placing a hand on the boy's back to check his breathing.

"He woke not long ago, didn't seem to know where he was or what was going on," Sirius answered worriedly, wrinkling his brow. "He was huddled under a table, and when I put my hand on his arm, he started pleading for me not to touch, promising he'd be good…I don't think he knew who I was." Madame Pomfrey frowned.

"He may have had a flashback, not uncommon with this type of trauma." She glanced at the table Harry had been under, then back at Sirius. "How did he get under the table?" Sirius flushed slightly.

"I stepped into the hall to talk to Professor Dumbledore. I was only gone a couple minutes, figures he'd have to choose then to wake up…" The nurse chuckled slightly.

"Well, he seems to be doing better. The fever is gone, the ribs and wrist seem to have healed up well –"

"When can I take him home?" Sirius interrupted. Madame Pomfrey gaped at him.

"You're taking him back to that place? How could you –"

"No, no, no," he hastened to explain. "My place. I have a mansion, right in Hogsmeade. Dumbledore okayed it, whenever you release him, he'll come home with me. Where he should have been all along," he added bitterly.

"I'd like to keep him for another day or two," she replied, pretending she hadn't heard the last sentence. "Long enough to have a chance to talk with him." Sirius nodded his understanding, then resumed pacing the floor with the sleeping boy as the nurse left the room.

It was several hours before Harry woke again. Sirius had eventually put the boy back on the bed, but stayed close by, not wanting a repeat of the last time. He had just dozed off in the chair when a whimper caught his attention.

"No, please, no, don't hit me, I'm sorry, I'll be good, don't hit me…no, please no, you're hurting me, stop…" Harry was thrashing in the bed, obviously having a nightmare. The begging erupted in a high pitched agonizing scream as Sirius leapt from his chair.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up, c'mon kid, wake up," he pleaded, gently shaking Harry's shoulders. The boy's eyes flew open, panicked and wild. Sirius gathered the boy in his arms and pulled him on his lap, rocking him gently.

"Shh, it was just a dream," he comforted, stroking the boy's dark head. "No one's going to hurt, you're safe, I won't let anyone hurt you." On and on he went, rocking and comforting the trembling boy.

When Dumbledore stopped by nearly an hour later, the sight in the room brought a smile to his lips. Sirius Black was sprawled on his back on the hospital bed, sound asleep. Atop him lay Harry, also asleep. One of Sirius's arms was draped across Harry's back protectively, while Harry's hands clutched the material of Sirius's robes. As Dumbledore watched, Harry whimpered slightly. Still asleep, Sirius's arm clutched Harry a little more tightly, and Harry relaxed again. Dumbledore chuckled; those two really needed each other.

"How are you feeling today, Harry?" Madame Pomfrey asked. A few more days had passed and she was ready to release Harry to Sirius, though some questions needed to be answered first.

"Ok," Harry mumbled, looking down at his lap.

"Harry, I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right," she said kindly.

"I'll step outside," Sirius said, rising to his feet. A look of panic crossed Harry's face, and he grabbed frantically at Sirius, catching his sleeve.

"Don't leave me," he begged.

"Are you sure?" Harry nodded urgently. "If you insist," Sirius conceded, sitting back on the bed. He was surprised when Harry scooted up against him, pressing himself against his godfather's side. Sirius draped his arm around Harry's thin shoulders, and began playing with Harry's messy hair. Madame Pomfrey regarded the two before her with sympathetic eyes, then turned to her notes.

"Harry, I'm going to ask some hard questions, but I need you to answer them the best you can, understand?" Harry nodded. "Ok. Before this summer, Harry, did any of your relatives ever hit you?"

"Dudley did sometimes," Harry answered quietly, "but he beat up lots of kids."

Madame Pomfrey made a note on her parchment, then asked, "What about your aunt or uncle?"

"I got smacked every now and then, but nothing like this summer." Sirius felt Harry shudder as he answered.

"Had your uncle ever touched you before?" she asked gently. Harry looked back down at his lap and began fiddling with his robes. Embarrassment colored his face.

"No," came the whispered reply.

"Harry, this summer…do you know how many times it happened?"

Harry's shoulders shook with silent sobs, then he leapt to his feet and began screaming. "I have no idea! Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep track of the days when you can't see outside and you're locked in one room constantly? Most of the time I wasn't even sure whether it was still the same day or the next day yet!"

Sirius rose to his feet, saying, "I think we're done for now." Madame Pomfrey nodded her agreement and set aside the parchment and quill.

Harry clutched Sirius's robes, again begging, "Don't leave me."

"Of course I'm not leaving you," he gently scolded, leaning over to scoop the sobbing boy into his arms. He walked out of the hospital wing, giving a small wave to Madame Pomfrey, and headed towards the entrance. "We're going home." Harry looked at him, tears still evident on his cheeks.

"Home?" A simple question, but one carried much more meaning. Sirius smiled at him.

"Yes, home. You're going to live with me from now on." Harry instantly relaxed into Sirius's arms, laying his head on the man's shoulder. A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"Home."


End file.
